


you have always worn me well

by aphrodite_mine



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Community: femslash100, Community: galentinesday, Community: kink_bingo, F/F, greek mythology prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles written for various prompts, various communities. Femslash, pairings listed in the chapter titles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. given half the chance - Wendy/Lucy

“So, this is awkward, right?”

Wendy shrugs. “It could be. It doesn’t have to be.” She dips the tip of her finger into her drink, sucks the liquid off. “Did Tom talk to you about me?”

Lucy answers quickly. “No. I mean. Well, a little. But nothing weird or bad or anything. I was a rebound. It’s only natural that it was a little bit about you.”

“I always sort of wished that I loved Tom. I mean, he’s a great guy, right?” The question seems rhetorical, but Wendy’s waiting for Lucy to answer.

Lucy begins a nod, but changes her mind halfway through. She takes the glass from Wendy’s delicate hands, slides it across the table between them, and leans in to taste the whiskey on Wendy’s lips. “I always wondered what he saw in you,” she says, suddenly knowing.


	2. you push me wide open - Ann/Leslie

“Excuse me, Ms. Knope?”

Kayla turned her attention to Abigail, leaving her collage of encouraging words to dry on the craft table.

“Abby,” Ms. Knope grinned, her eyes bright. Kayla liked Ms. Knope, they all did.

Abigail exhaled heavily. “Ms. Knope, I’m wondering something.”

“Goddesses are encouraged to wonder, Abby. Do you have a question?”

“I’m wondering why Ms. Perkins got that,” she pointed across the room to where Ms. Perkins was sitting. She seemed a little surprised to be talked about. “badge. The one with the shooting star.”

Ms. Knope swallowed, made a face, then smiled. “Because Ms. Perkins is a shooting star!”

Kayla frowned, standing up next to Abigail, suddenly and out of necessity taking her hand. “But why didn’t anyone else get it?”

At Ms. Knope’s further hesitation, Abigail stepped forward, the light from the cabin window hitting her red hair like fire, and touched her palm. “It’s okay,” she said, and Kayla felt something lifting into place, “Ms. Perkins is special to you. It’s okay,” she said, reaching back and reclaiming Kayla’s hand while holding Ms. Knope’s and watching the way Ms. Perkins’ face changed.


	3. you have always worn me well - Ethel/Muriel

Ethel puts the coffee on and Muriel sets the toaster. Hands shake, and neither acknowledge the fact. “Jam?” Muriel suggests. Ethel harrumphs. “Marmalade, if we have it.” They do, a small jar, half-empty, that Muriel canned last fall. Sunlight breaks through the curtains that Ethel made, when her hands were still reliable enough to run fabric through the machine. They’re blue, the color of the pin Muriel wore in her hair when they met. They’re blue, like Ethel’s eyes, like the sky, like the ocean they sometimes talk about seeing. “Sugar?” Ethel suggests. Muriel laughs. “Creamer, if we have it.”


	4. Life is good, Maybe it's great - Ann/Leslie

“Do you ever,” Leslie started suddenly, lifting her head from the crook of Ann’s shoulder, “wonder how things would be different if you lived somewhere else, like, not next to a lot-formerly-a-pit?”

“I’m not wondering right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” Ann shifted, nudging Leslie’s cheek with her nose for a kiss; a kiss that never got old or tired, a kiss that always felt brand new. Sacred.

Breathless, Leslie broke it off. “Yes, but, what if we never met.” Her eyes were bright, with desire, with need. Ann rolled both of them over, Leslie looking up at her, dazed.

“None of the what-ifs matter, Les.” She brushed a hair out of Leslie’s eyes, felt a smile grow up in side of her at the look of pure love radiating there, but kept her face serious, just for a moment longer. “None of that matters because we’re here, now, in this house next to a lot-formerly-a-pit.”

“Someday a park,” Leslie insisted, arching up against Ann’s body. Warm.

“Someday a park.”


	5. oh girls (they just wanna have fun) - Ann/Donna

The Snakehole flashes blue and green and Ann is starting to feel sick. "Donna, I--" she starts, leaning her head on her not-quite-friend's shoulder. It's the alcohol, she thinks, righting herself, overestimating and stumbling backwards.

"Whoa there," Donna laughs, veering left to grab a shot glass from an unsuspecting waiter. She downs it, some of the liquid moistening her lips. And Ann wouldn't care -- doesn't care -- but she can't look away, and Donna is staring at her like she's grown a third ear in the middle of her forehead (people only have two ears, right?) and eventually settles on abandoning the empty shot glass to put a hand on Ann's shoulder. "You sure you're alright?" she asks, and Ann isn't. Sure.


	6. staring down the sun - Ann/Leslie

Sweet Ann. Beautiful Ann.

(Leslie's never done this before, hardly even though about it -- okay, that's a lie -- but she thought it might be at least a little bit like, well, the other thing -- maybe, she thought once, it would be like eating ice cream -- and it isn't. It isn't like anything else, ever.)

Ann tastes like morning dew on clean park grass, like moonlight hitting mainstreet, like just the right amount of whipped cream, like waking up.

(Her skin glistens; her fingers tangle in the sheets and she arches, arches; Leslie spreads her tongue flat and kisses Ann, right there on the edge.)


	7. never thought I'd find - Ann/Leslie

The cheesecake doesn't sit well after the first five pieces, but Ann keeps eating. She keeps going, and she'll keep going for as long as it takes. What exactly am I shooting for, here? she thinks, slipping another bite past her lips, chewing. Leslie flits from table to table, shaking hands, smiling. Ann smiles too. She thinks about throwing the rest of the cake away and heading home while she can still walk, crawling in to bed and attempting chapter one of The Sorcerer's Stone for the fifth time. Then Leslie smiles in her direction and Ann takes another bite.


	8. the best that you could hope for - Ann/Leslie

"I'm cold," Leslie says, huddling into a ball under the comforter she's all but stolen. Stolen from Ann's bed in Ann's house, where the electricity -- and therefore heat -- is still working.

"Obviously." Ann tugs her side over.

"Can you get me a blanket? Another one? The one with the fuzzies?"

"Just come here, Leslie." Ann doesn't wait, she slides towards the heat-radiating lump of Leslie, tugging at the blanket, letting herself in to the cocoon. It's strange, how her body reacts to being this close. It's just been too long, she thinks, and She could be anyone.

Only she couldn't.

The little sigh she makes when Ann tucks the comforter around them, her body flush against Leslie's, front to back, heat settling in around them in their little nest.

"Just come here," Ann says again, though they couldn't get any closer, "and I'll keep you warm."


	9. for what you really are - Marcia/Shawna

"Look, I'm not one of these... hippies, but that doesn't change the fact that the end is near! And not by some terrible fire-breathing cult figure, but by a no-longer-benevolent God!" Marcia Langman is tugging on Shauna's sleeve, licking her lips like a lion at dinner, and this is getting old fast. Normally, Shauna can deal with the crazies with an extra Xanax, but today is pushing her limits. She almost wishes that the Zorpies are right. Getting her face burned off would be better than this.

It's hopeless, but she goes in anyway. "Ms. Langman. Newspapers are for reporting the facts, not wild speculation. If you'd like to see your viewpoint in print, I'm sure the editor would be happy to read a letter."

"I've sent several! No reply! I'm sorry, Ms. Malwae-Tweep, but this is starting to look like religious persecution." Marcia's hand tightens on Shauna's wrist. She thinks, briefly, about calling the police over. "I'd like to implore you to include a non-heathen view point in your article."

Marcia, due to the lack of police intervention, isn't letting go. Shauna sees no other way out, so she places her atheist hand on Marcia's, squeezes and asks, smiling when Marcia's face lights up like Christmas morning. More like Easter, maybe.


	10. we were two of those too - Ann/Leslie

“Someday,” Leslie says, tilting her head to get a better look at the campaign poster, “I’m going to marry you, Ann Perkins.” She makes a small correction with a black Sharpie and sits back, satisfied.

They’ve spent the last three hours discussing what Ann’s role will be in this Student Council Election. Leslie will, of course, be running for president of the fifth grade. At first, Ann seemed set on offering her supportive services as secretary, but Leslie reminded her, a little bluntly, that she tends to drift off when things get boring, and frankly while Leslie finds the ins and outs of positions of power thrilling and wonderful and amazing and lots of other superlatives, Ann is a little less enthused about the whole thing. “What about treasurer, then?” Leslie asked, thinking more about the proper color star to border her poster. Silver, she thinks, might look a little strange next to her intensely yellow hair.

Ann shrugged. “I’m really not that great at math.”

“Oh Ann, you’re so beautiful I forget sometimes that you’re kind of average.”

Ann opened her mouth to object, but Leslie cuts her off.

“Vice president! Ann! Why didn’t you think of this sooner? Your beautiful and super cool face next to mine on the auditorium floor will remind the voting public that not only do Knope & Perkins have to know-how to put this school on the right track, but the looks to make a vote worth while for the boys!”

Ann passed Leslie a blue marker. “You really think I could be vice president? Isn’t that a lot harder than secretary or treasurer?”

Leslie laughed, loud and long. “Ann, everyone knows that the primary objective of the vice presidential office is to offer support and aide to the president, and Ann,” she set the marker down, uncapped, and cupped Ann’s face with marker-stained fingers, “you are the best supporter and aider I know.”

The color rose in Ann’s cheeks, and they worked silently for a few minutes, before Leslie spoke, her voice like the stacatto beating of Ann’s heart. “I’m going to marry you someday,” she said. And like everything Leslie said, she spoke with conviction, and Ann believed her.


	11. calling me back home - Ann/Leslie

Leslie is wearing a sweater that lights up and Ann is scared enough of electrical shock that she's a little wary of kisses let alone wearing a matching creation of her own. "Well, gosh, Ann," Leslie admonishes, her reflection shimmering in the living room window, the quiet tumble of snow floating through the darkness just behind. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were lacking in holiday spirit."

"The only thing I'm lacking," Ann allows, her hands busy with wrapping paper at tape on her corner of the couch, "is a death wish." She pins down a difficult fold and holds it with her thumb while pointing at her partner with her free hand. "If I recall, that sweater came with a warning label."

"So do foods with nuts!"

Ann's lip quirks. "You're nuts." Invitation, interpreted correctly by one Leslie Knope, to jump from her perch on the far arm rest and settle behind her love, reds and blues and greens beaming onto Ann's back, one arm sneaking around to hold the paper in place.

"I'm nuts about you," Leslie offers, and even though Ann is certain she can feel the sweater radiating heat, she leans back against the familiar body and lets the unfinished gift fall to the floor. The kiss is long and soft and tastes like mint.

"Fine," Ann whispers against Leslie's mouth, shifting slightly, easing herself closer. "But one burn and I'm issuing a health alert about the dangers of mistletoe in the home."

"As if I need a plant to get in your pants, Ann Perkins."

"Better take your sweater off anyway," Ann whispers, kissing Leslie's throat. She catches a glimpse of snowflakes drifting across their reflection -- warm and bright. "Just to be safe."


	12. find an old-fashioned girl - Ann/Leslie

She does what Leslie expects, what Leslie needs. Ann gasps and screams and “Party Rock”s in all the right places as Leslie babble-cries into the phone. Just jealous, she thinks, identifying the heavy weight around her heart. She sees Leslie in white, sees Ben’s nervous shuffle, sees his smile change and his eyes brighten. “I’m so, so happy for you Leslie,” Ann says, shivering in her house, alone, cleared of her lovers’ debris. She thinks, not for the first time, about her government job, about the backup can of whipped cream in her fridge.

“I’m happy, damnit,” she tells the phone once Leslie hangs up. “I’m happy.”


	13. fever started long ago - Ann/Leslie

"In summary, I really need to see you right now, so I'm standing outside the break room."

Ann promptly chokes on her dinner and ends the call. Sure enough, "Leslie, who let you back here?"

"And the best greeting award does not go to Ann Perkins, despite how really, really good you look right now--"

(She wouldn't be Leslie if she didn't keep mumbling into the kiss.)

"--and for putting up with me for interrupting your very special break time."

"I forgive you, Les." Ann shakes her head, smiling. "It's okay."

"Okay, but--" Leslie dashes around the corner, and Ann (as usual), follows. There's a harsh squeak as Leslie hops on to a (thankfully unoccupied) hospital bed and throws her head back dramatically. "I am in desperate need of your help, Nurse Perkins!"

Ann swallows, feels the heat rising in her cheeks. "You know we can't, not here."

"Please, Ann. Please, please, just take my temperature."

So she does, a little uncertain as to where this (much like anything where Leslie is involved) is going. Leslie gives her a serious look, keeping the thermometer tight between her lips. Ann smiles at her, can't help it, and to her credit only jumps a little when she feels a cool hand against her stomach, under the scrubs. They don't move for a long moment, a tableau of nurse and patient, skewed.

The thermometer beeps. "Well, no fever. Do you think you'll live, Ms. Knope?"

"I'm sure of it."


	14. juvenile - Ann/Leslie

"I'm going to slip into something a little more comfortable. And you," Leslie draws out the world, "should wear this." She holds up a flannel jacket that has seen better days and a pair of pants. Men's pants.

Ann is torn between the idea of sexy Leslie (yeah, she gets in touch with her inner fifteen-year-old sometimes) and "Those? Those are... I think they actually belong to Andy. Where did you find those?"

"In the closet under your box of childhood memorabilia. By the way, congrats on being Student of the Month in third grade, Ann!" Leslie drops the clothes on the bed and comes over to give Ann a celebratory kiss, full of energy and promise.

Coming up for air, Ann presses her forehead against Leslie's. "You really want me to dress like a dude?"

"You should probably tie your hair back." Leslie looks at her critically. "You're way too pretty to be believable, but it'll help with the illusion."

Ann shakes her head, but quickly finishes with the belt buckle when Leslie emerges from the bathroom in lacy panties Ann's never seen. This can definitely work. (Ann's pretty in touch with her inner fifteen-year-old right now, in fact.)


	15. a reputation to uphold - Ann/Leslie

"Okay Leslie. Good news: your ankle is totally fine."

"But it hurts!" Leslie's bottom lip juts out and she kicks against the table with the very foot she's been complaining about. "Ow! See!"

Ann smiles good-naturedly, but this is getting old. She's not sure if she has the patience for a whole life of this (she does). "If it would make you feel better, the hospital can give you a cane for a few days."

"The kind with the sword inside?" Leslie lights up and hops to her feet, remembering to favor her right side.

"The kind that help you walk when you're hurt."

"Okay then. Definitely."

*

She abandons it after a half-day of trying to maneuver around City Hall carrying binders and notebooks and leaning sideways in an exaggerated effort to save her foot-ankle-leg from further injury. And it bothers Ann, more than usual, because these people know that she's a nurse, that she's the one letting Leslie get away with this... infantile behavior. And someday, she'd like to make an impression around her that doesn't revolve around the esteemed Ms. Knope.

*

"Looking for this?" Ann asks when she gets home, throwing the cane in Leslie's direction on the couch (she may or may not be hoping for impact, but still winces a little when the lightweight metal clunks into Leslie's shoulder causing her to drop the paperwork she was holding).

"Oh yes!" Leslie fingers the metal, "thank you! It was very helpful, I'm practically functioning at one hundred percent now!"

Ann sighs and sits down on the couch next to her girlfriend. She's never been a fighter. "Look, Les. Maybe next time we could just... kiss it better instead of borrowing hospital resources?" And she honestly expects, for a moment, for Leslie to back down and concede this.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ann." Leslie puts her hands out in protest, "I could have died if I didn't get the necessary medical help."

Ann grabs the cane, frowning. "You stubbed your toe."

"And it hurt!"

Ann notices that Leslie's eyes are trained on her, even as she stands up with the cane, shaking her head. On impulse, she smacks Leslie on the back as she retreats to the kitchen, feeling just a bit better about the whole thing when she hears the dull thud, her hand absorbing the impact. And she pretends not to hear the quiet "Thank you," as she leans the cane against the oven. She's not quite ready to think about what it means.


	16. don't save a prayer for me now - Ann/Leslie

The shaking starts deep inside of her, some place dark and slick and hidden. She says Leslie’s name, and almost doesn’t recognize the breaking, gasping syllables. She says “God” and believes that she exists — exists in the places burning bright, shocking through her limbs. God is the whisper of breath between their bodies, the drops of sweat hiding under the tangle of dark blonde curls, the shimmer of her passion on lips she loves.

“Ann,” Leslie whispers, and traces invisible lines over the heaving lines of Ann’s rib cage.

Her touch then, now, always, is the stuff of heaven. Silver and bright. Spun sugar.


	17. sweetly, sweetly, I breathe in - Ann/Leslie

Ann slides her finger down the faded page of the recipe, one her mother copied out years ago still on it's original index card. "Two cups of sugar," she reads, half from memory. Leslie hefts the bag from the lower cabinet, not hesitating at the handle, no longer cautious in Ann's kitchen. She unfolds the top, fills the scoop and levels off the remainder with her finger, catching Ann's glare before she pops her finger into her mouth.

"What? I'll wash!" she says, though the words come out garbled and with a small spray of pixie white.

Ann dumps the sugar into her bowl, trying to keep her smile down. "If you're done cleaning yourself I need another cup," she says, attempting an intimidating glare that manifests somewhere between amused and besotted.

Leslie hangs the offensive finger under the tap and dutifully washes up. "We're the ones who are going to eat 'em, right? So it shouldn't matter if our germs are baked inside." She pouts seriously and fusses with Ann's kitchen towel. Her head drops to Ann's shoulder. "Don't you like my germs?"

"I love your germs," Ann allows, kissing the crown of Leslie's head. "Just not in my cookies."


	18. a tongue impress'd with honey - Ann/April

"You're married," Ann says, stepping back, blinking.

April slouches. "And you're old," she says, her tone indicating that Ann should already be aware of this fact.

"I dated your husband, April." Ann shakes her head, placing her hands (palm open) against the wall to steady herself.

"Oh, and you're really annoying. Did I mention that? I didn't? Okay: you're really annoying." April sighs. "And now I'm getting bored. Why are we talking?"

"Because you kissed me, and while I think it's fabulous that you don't hate me anymore, at least, I don't think so, I--" Ann holds out a hand, immediately aware that she's shaking slightly, "I'm totally straight. So there must be a mixed message there somew--"

And then Ann stops talking because April is kissing her again, and Ann thinks You sure don't kiss like a married woman, and What the hell does a married woman kiss like, and Oh, and Okay, and when April pulls back, smirking, Ann's sure this is probably all some kind of joke and she never much cared for April Fools.

"If you're straight, I'm Janet Snakehole."

"But you're not Janet Snakehole."

"Exactly." April's lips lift at the corners. "And don't worry. I still hate you."


	19. Gross Things A Novel By April Ludgate - Ann/April

Ann keeps hugging her and it’s probably the worst thing April has ever lived through aside from 1) being born (the only thing more disgusting than coming out of a vagina is the fact that it was her mom’s vagina) and 2) the Spice Girls poster she had on her bedroom wall until the age of almost 18 (but if you tell anyone she’ll literally kill you). What’s grosser is that Ann smells clean, and jesus, don’t even ask how April knows that. She has to breathe, right? Even when being hugged by the worst person in the entire world.


	20. No Thank You Please - Ann/April

“Ew. What are you doing here? This is my house. Where I live.”

Ann’s hands settle on her hips, and of course, her purse slips so she has to fix that and immediately ruin whatever power she had over the situation. (None. That would be no power. Whatsoever.) “That’s how I knew where to find you.” Obviously. That’s obvious, right?

“Ugh. But why are you here?” April’s voice slips quickly into whine territory, her hand lingering on the doorknob like she’s seconds from slamming the whole business in Ann’s face, glancing back into the house. “I’m super busy right now, packing. Moving, we’re moving. Because you know where I live.”

Ann shakes her head, rolls her eyes. “I just wanted to say thank you, okay? I had fun the other night.”

“With Tom?” April asks, and then remembers that she’s not supposed to care.

“Yeah,” Ann says, smiling, forgetting that she’s fighting a current here, forgetting that she’s pressing upstream. “I mean, he’s hardly—”

“Stop talking. You’re hurting my ears.”

“I just wanted to say tha—”

“I’m closing the door now.”

Ann lets her do it, smiling when she sees the flash of dark eyes before the door slips shut. It’s nice. It’s progress. And she really did have an okay time.


	21. a pair of parenthesis - Ann/Leslie

"Okay," Ann says, slowly toeing off her shoes so they tumble to the floor. It's potentially dangerous to interrupt Leslie while she's reading, but this is like, her fourth re-read of the Harry Potter series in just the time Ann's known her, so it can't be that engrossing, right?

Of course, she starts regretting it when Leslie very deliberately sets her book down (it's the one about the prison, Ann knows that much) using her finger for a bookmark. "Yes, Ann?" she asks cooly from her place propped up against the pillows. Ann stares up at her and flops onto her back to their eye contact isn't as direct.

"I know you like Harry Potter," Ann muses, her right shoe finally slipping off her heel, dangling from her toe. "But I guess..." and here Ann trails off, feeling like her shoe. Is it too early to ask about this sort of thing? Do girlfriends even care about their girlfriend's choice of fantasy novels? Instinct says yes, but there's still that small part of Ann that feels so out of her depth concerning "this gay thing" (as he mother calls it, tersely, over the phone). And really, if she actually thinks about it, "this gay thing" is no different from that straight (or kind-of-straight) thing she did for her life until, well, she met Leslie. The difference is Leslie herself, that Ann actually cares how much whipped cream she likes on her hot cocoa, that she prefers a certain brand of highlighters, that she likes Harry Potter, and -- "Well, I was wondering what other sort of books you liked."

Leslie's smile comes slow, but bright and wide. She reaches for a real bookmark and sets her book on the nightstand. "Ann Perkins," she says, making a come here gesture with both hands, "You're not going to get out of reading Rowling's masterpiece just because I happen to enjoy a myriad of literary titles -- including, but not limited to my collection of Fabulous Women Political Figures non-fiction."

Ann licks her lips, shrugs, and smiles. "I figured. But it can't hurt to ask."


	22. fifteen minutes - Ann (gen)

It's four o'clock, and damned if Ann's going to skip her fifteen. She's actually considered taking up smoking, because the hospital staff who smoke get more breaks and payroll is more forgiving of those minutes over and under. Of course, she doesn't take up smoking, because she works at a hospital, and if she believed in that sort of thing, she might even say that there should be penalties for hospital staff using tobacco.

But she doesn't believe in that sort of thing, and mostly, she's happy just to eat her sandwich from home and scroll through texts from Leslie.

Peanut butter and jelly and Knope. Not bad.


	23. After Hours - Ann/Leslie

"We should probably go home, now, Leslie."

Ann gets a brief glimpse; blonde hair and grey suit dashing from one room to the next. "Just a few more files--" A crash, followed by quick, sharp cursing. "These lights are supposed to be motion activated, damnit."

"Maybe they don't work after hours, Les."

"No." Distracted. "I've tested them before."

Ann smiles, leans against the door frame. "Do you need some help?"

"No!" Determined. "Unless you have a flash light. Cause. Um. I could use that." Another clattering, and Ann's on her feet.

She fumbles for the light switch, blinks, smiles.


	24. Organic - Ann/April

“I’ve been taking a serious look into sustainable fabrics. Okay, I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. Picture this: burlap. Recycled plastic. Snakeskin. Maybe on a line of party wear? But I am a little bit concerned about how the colors will hold up with multiple washings, and I am all about getting the maximum wear for my dollar! Am I right?”

April popped the pen she had been chewing free of her mouth. “Yes. You are so right.” Good. It hadn’t exploded. Her mouth totally didn’t look good covered in ink.

“And organics are just so in right now. The real problem is finding clothing that is well made and affordable, right, Ann?”

“I know exactly what you are talking about.” She looked up from the paperwork Leslie insisted she read over to make contact with the only other sane person in the room, finding April, twisting her lips into an approximation of a smile.

It was hard not to echo one back.


	25. you are the only one - Ann/Leslie

"Well, I'm glad that debacle is over." Ann thought that maybe, just maybe, the blush was beginning to fade.

"Debacle?" Leslie pronounced the word 'debekel' even though Ann had just sad the same aloud. She closed Ann's door behind them, taking a moment to straighten her cuff links.

"Yeah," Ann didn't argue. She found it wasted time and energy. "You didn't find that whole thing..." She couldn't find the right word.

Leslie's face lit up. "Exhilarating?"

Definitely not what she was searching for. "Um."

"Ann, I've never experienced anything like that in my life." She stepped closer. "And you were there with me." She took Ann's hand. It didn't, actually, feel strange.

The whole crowd thought we were a couple, Ann protested, internally. She couldn't quite say it. She didn't know why. "I wouldn't have been there with anyone but you, Leslie."

It was the truth. No one else would have missed the social cues required to wear a suit and a man's hair-do to a public event, tucking their arm in her's. And it was something else, too.

Ann tucked an errant hair back into the monstrosity atop Leslie's head, whatever words she had planned dying in her throat.

"I think we made quite an impression, don't you?"


	26. Unbreakable Vow - Ann/Leslie

*

Leslie rolls over, her breast grazing Ann's arm, sending shivers all through her though they're warm in bed. "Hey Ann?"

"You don't have to say Hey Ann, Leslie. I'm right here."

Leslie tucks her Ravenclaw bookmark in place and sets The Half-Blood Prince on the night stand. "I wonder what your patronus would be, Ann. Something beautiful, like an antelope, or a cat."

Ann sets her own book aside, her magazine, really. After pulling shifts at both jobs she needs to unwind. Glamour is just ridiculous enough to do the trick, though Leslie finds their heterosexism frustrating and has written numerous letters to the editor. "And what would yours be?" She knows Leslie wants her to ask. It never hurts to play along.

Snuggling up against Ann, her fingers cold and sure over Ann's hip, inching slowly lower, warmer. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe an otter."

"Clever and very, very cute," Ann adds, shifting against Leslie's hand, sighing when they fall in to place, books forgotten.

"Or maybe a stag," Leslie murmurs. "Harry's a stag."

*

"Mmm," Ann says, later. "My turn."

"I'm pretty sure you just had your turn, Ann." Leslie's face is soft with exertion, her smile coming easy and wet.

But Leslie doesn't complain or dispute the facts when Ann turns them over, kicking at the already-half-discarded comforter and shivering briefly at the rush of cold air over their sweat-laced bodies. "My turn," she says, kissing Leslie's stomach, the underside of her right breast, licking upwards to the nipple and flicking her tongue. "My turn, my treat."

Leslie reaches up to run her fingers through Ann's hair, brushing back the strands that have fallen forward, tipped with sweat. She scoots up on the pillows, spreads her legs (almost imperceptible, her expectation, her desire).

"Mmm," Ann says, shakes her head. She catches Leslie's wrist and holds it back over her head. "Just me. I want you, Leslie." Her voice comes out cracked, and Ann catches Leslie's lower lip between her teeth, capturing any argument. She kisses her deep, the whole length of them touching, breasts, hips, toes. "I want you, and I don't need any help."

"Oh Ann," Leslie says, letting her hand drop behind her head, catching at the pillows with tight fingers. "You've got this down."


End file.
